


The Anchor

by sylvex



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-08
Updated: 2018-05-08
Packaged: 2019-05-04 00:12:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14580708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sylvex/pseuds/sylvex
Summary: Bakura had just begun to move on with his life when someone makes an unexpected return.





	The Anchor

**Author's Note:**

> Please excuse the characterization is a bit wonky or some canon inconsistent tidbits, it's been over a decade since I've read or watched Yu-Gi-Oh and I have not seen any series beyond the original up to Atem's departure.

It was like any other day. He had settled in back in his apartment, positioning his latest model carefully before picking up a spray can to start on the base layer.

Ever since they had seen Atem off, Bakura had been hesitant to return to his hobby of dioramas and models. He remembered the dark voice urging him on despite his aches and pains, giving him guidance, even enthused encouragement…

A diorama of unprecedented accuracy of Ancient Egypt for the museum’s exhibit. Not only would his father be impressed, but the spirit had told him it would be the vessel that allowed him and Yugi’s spirit to be transported to the afterlife. He was _weary_ and _repentant_ , he had claimed. Wanted to be left to the eternal rest he had long been owed.

Shame still washed over Bakura like waves at the very thought. How bloody naïve had he been? There had been so many signs, yet…

‘The Ultimate Shadow RPG’, Yugi had later told him on the way back from Egypt. With his own hands, he had made a perfect replica of the past to serve as the setting for the revival of the Dark God…or would have been, had the other Yugi- Atem- not stopped him.

He remembered the shiver that ran through him, and the gentle hand of his friend over his, as if anchoring him to the present. There was no anger, no disappointment, no blame…not from any of them. Once again, Bakura was struck by the kindness and generosity of his friends.

But since graduation and starting college, he had avoided this hobby, one that had once been his only solace. That is, until the museum curator _commissioned_ one. And then another. And another.

The scale and attention to detail, she had insisted, was masterful. And just what the museum needed to give visitors a measure of the grandiosity of the Ancient Worlds.

If his father had not owned Domino City Museum, would he have accepted? Well, perhaps. It _was_ very flattering. Afterall, it wasn’t everyday a 23 year old hobbyist was given the opportunity to use his modeling skills to make replicas of historical places and events.

But as his father’s endeavor, part of him felt even more responsible for its success. Despite how busy he had been since opening the museum, his father had provided for him, even in their shared grief for Amane and his mother…

* * *

 

“Oh!” exclaimed Bakura as he looked down at the tiny piece of model wall, frowning at the splatter effect he had inadvertently made across it. _Looks like I’m going to have to buy more paint tomorrow…_

“Goodness, dear Landlord, have you been practicing? Looks like you’ve lost your touch!” came a mocking voice from behind him, cutting him from his thoughts.

Bakura turned quickly, reflexively gripping at his chest, waiting for the familiar weight of the Ring against his chest…but this time, there was no such feeling.

“ _You_ ,” rasped Bakura, his eyes wide even as he toppled onto the floor in shock. _This- what- what is this?!_

Even in glow of the dim desk light, he could recognize the features- _his own features_ \- staring back at him with a menacing smirk. How- how could this be? Was this- was this _him_? But Atem- Atem had killed him- he was-

“No need to be so frightened, my dearest landlord,” retorted the spirit of the Ring(?), bending down to stare into his eyes. They were…blue, Bakura realized. And his hair…grey, voluminous strands that seemed to stop at his collarbones. The dimness had masked it, but his skin darker than Bakura’s had ever been, even after their Egyptian excursion.

Bakura swallowed. “Why are you here?” he managed to get out, trembling under the spirit’s shrewd stare. Was he hallucinating? This was impossible. This _had_ to be impossible. He was gone. Finally, he had left.

“I don’t know,” said the other flatly. “One moment, the Pharaoh had destroyed the Dark Lord and I was dead...the next, I was here.”

After a moment of staring, the spirit spoke again. “You look older.”

“I- it’s been 5 years,” Bakura stammered, swallowing as he tried to take deep breaths. His mind swirled with thoughts, his body was paralyzed by fear, he could feel the world closing in- why was he here? What did he  _want_ from him?!

“Hey, calm down, Landlord,” the spirit said brusquely as he gripped his shoulders. “You-…”

But just as suddenly, he let go of Bakura, stepping back. For the first time in memory, Bakura could hear surprise in the dark being's voice. 

“I...I have a body.” Another pause. "How is this possible?"

 


End file.
